Partiality Without Prejudice
by Brigit O'Shaugnessy
Summary: A few glimpses of Emma and Mr. Knightley through the years, from her childhood to just before the novel. Done many times before I'm sure, but I needed to get my feet wet. And I know I've enjoyed reading all of them, so why not add mine to the lot? Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

**AN: **I do not own _Emma _or any of it's characters. I warn you all that I have a terrible habit of not finishing my stories, however given the nature of this story, I do not think it will matter too much whether or not it is abandoned. My plan as of now is to write a little scene for each year showing the changes in interaction between Emma and Mr. Knightley starting with her at age seven. I thought it was a pretty elementary exercise to get my mind into the appropriate world for this style of writing. This is my first period piece, and I would welcome any criticism or pointers that any may have for me. It is also my first piece for what I believe will be a more well-read crowd than my other stories, making your good opinion "more worth the earning." Thanks for reading!

Brigit

PS-PLEASE tell me if you see typos. I abhor them. :)

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><p><strong>Partiality Without Prejudice<strong>

**Chapter 1**

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><p>Mr. Knightley could not say with any degree of certainty what kind of woman little Emma Woodhouse would grow to be, but he could say that she would doubtless have the attention of everyone around her. At merely seven years old, she already knew how to influence her sister twice her age in decisions about the household. She knew how to bring her governess to her way of thinking about daily activities and amusements. And Mr. Woodhouse was the easiest of them all.<p>

Mr. Woodhouse had dearly loved his late wife. She had an ease of temperament and an unaffected caring about her that had charmed him. She had a great deal of patience and never tired of hearing and taking into account his concerns—or so he thought. In truth, Mrs. Woodhouse knew that her husband would never rest peacefully until he had given voice to his fears, but that once they had been spoken (much like a secret), they lost all of their potency. And so with a very small amount of reason, she was able to bring him around to a rational solution, thereby ensuring the comfort of all. Emma Woodhouse was, in all these respects, her mother's daughter. She was content to let him worry over her playing, knowing that once she had shown him that she attended his concerns, that her play might continue with less discomfort to all.

So Emma seemed to live a charmed life. She was subjected to constant praise by her governess who, despite her best efforts, did show some partiality to dear Emma over Isabella. Isabella was a sweet girl, but she could not garner much attention whenever the engaging Emma was in the room. However, as Isabella did not require these attentions, she felt it little, and there was no envy between the sisters. They were as close as two sisters of seven years difference could be.

To be quite just with Emma's character, she was a lively, pretty, intelligent child, and well-deserving of much of the praise she received. Her temper was all that could be desired in a child. She was quick to learn, and desirous of pleasing. Being so desirous of pleasing, had the added advantage of making her keenly aware of what others seemed to want not only from her, but in general. She could sense when someone was out of spirits and would do her utmost to remedy the melancholy.

Emma's desire for the happiness of those within her immediate realm was easily achieved by the simple fact of her existence. This was a fact all too evident to Mr. Knightley, but he hoped it was not quite so evident to Emma. While he too was pleased by her playfulness, and delighted in tossing her about whenever her father's watchful eye was not about to worry that she would excessively exert herself, he knew the danger of a person being too content with themselves. He did not want to see the dear little child grow up to believe no improvement was necessary. Where others seemed to see perfection in the child, he saw potential. Her mind was keen, and her wit was sharp. To be sure, she was the perfect child. But she would not remain a child forever, and he feared that the constant petting of her vanity would not be beneficial as she came of age. He spoke as much to Miss Taylor one day while Isabella and Emma were playing in the garden at Hartfield.

"Surely, Mr. Knightley, you would not begrudge a motherless child a little praise now and again."

"I do not begrudge Emma anything. She is deserving of some praise. She is a generous little thing, and learns quickly—sometimes a little too quickly I think. But I believe that praise must be tempered. I am afraid that Emma will learn to be a bit too well-pleased with herself, and find no motivation for improvement."

"And how would you have her improved? Is she terribly deficient for a child of seven years?"

"She is not, as you well know. I do not speak of current ills, but of future."

"Perhaps then, this conversation should be saved for a time when it is of more immediacy?"

"This is not to say that Emma should be scolded and censured when she has done nothing wrong. It is merely to say that perhaps she has her own way just a bit too much for her own good. Perhaps it would do her good to do something she dislikes every so often. She is always doing what she likes and always comfortable. But you know that this is not what life will always be for her."

"No, it is not. But can it not be for the time being? She has had very bad fortune to lose her mother so young. It seems she deserves a bit of her own way for just a little while."

"Perhaps you are right. But at what time does it become appropriate to test her? I am afraid that by the time she is able to substantially improve herself, everyone will have become so accustomed to being ruled by her that they will not know how to go about teaching her."

"It is true, Mr. Knightley, that Emma is very much allowed to do as she chooses just now, but as she grows older, her natural curiosity and keenness of mind will tempt her to all manner of improvement and education. You will see. All we be well for her. She will grow up feeling that she is safe and loved, despite the absence of her mother. If I can give her that gift, I will leave the rest to you," Miss Taylor teased, for she had every intention of Emma turning out well with or without Mr. Knightley.

"A heavy charge indeed, Miss Taylor!" Mr. Knightley smiled at the thought that he should be the little girl's sole advocate for self-improvement. "But as you lay it so carelessly upon me, I will endeavor to always tell our Emma the truth whether it will please her or not. Though I now find myself weakening, for I should much rather like to please her than not."

"As we all do, but I think you may be right that it will be good for Emma to do things she does not like. Therefore, you must visit Hartfield often and vex her while the rest of us lavish her with praise. She will be obliged to listen to your censure, which I am sure she will not like. Then perhaps she will not be vain, but she may also come to have backward manners owing to a dislike of her own person. Would you have Emma be a timid, little thing that jumps at the slightest word from anyone? Unsure of herself and doubting her own worth? I say that I always thought you more generous than that."

"Never fear, Miss Taylor. This Emma Woodhouse you see frolicking before you is in no danger of becoming a wallflower. And with so many admirers at such a young age, she will never doubt her own charms. Therefore, I am determined, as you say, to be unbiased in my assessment of our little friend, however sorely I am tempted to coax a smile from her with unrestrained praise. I daresay, I may not be her favorite, but I hope that I may be of some use to her."

"Mr. Knightley!" Emma called as she abandoned Isabella temporarily. "Won't you come tell Isabella that she is wrong, for she has said that China is in the Americas!"

"How does she know about China?" Mr. Knightley directed his question to Miss Taylor.

"You said yourself she is a quick learner. Emma dear, it is time for you and your sister to go inside. Your father will not want you out of doors so long. Let Mr. Knightley be."

"Oh, Miss Taylor, it will not take long. Please? It's all right, is it not, Mr. Knightley?" Emma's eyes turned up to him as she carelessly brushed a curl from her face.

"Well, perhaps not. It seems a simple matter to be resolved quickly," he answered, giving in to his little friend.

"That is the sort of steadfast resolution the child needs to see displayed, Mr. Knightley. She will be improved within days with the way you have denied her what she pleases."

"I did not confess that the training would begin immediately. Besides, think how the Chinese would feel about being called thusly. The reputation of their country depends upon me."


	2. Chapter 2

**Partiality Without Prejudice**

**Chapter 2**

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><p>Mr. Knightley did, shortly thereafter, begin Emma's "training" just as he had declared, but he himself was not without cleverness. He knew that for a child so young, he would have to use some sort of ruse, and so there he sat between Emma and Isabella, his business with Mr. Woodhouse having been long since completed for the day. The box of alphabet squares was before them in disarray as it had happily been for three quarters of an hour. It was rare to find the bouncing Emma sedentary for quite so long, but as outdoors had been forbidden to her today due to excessive rains, she seemed to have contented herself with sitting by Mr. Knightley's knee as she often did. Only a year ago had Mr. Knightley resolved to improve little Emma's mind and character by being an impartial judge of her where others were not, but rather than Emma being vexed by it as Miss Taylor had predicted, Emma seemed to take Mr. Knightley's reserve in praise as a challenge. Whenever he was at Hartfield she would attend only to him. She had ready enough attention from others whenever she liked, but Mr. Knightley was not always at her disposal.<p>

Today, however, he was, and he had given her a grand opportunity to make an impression with the alphabet squares. He set the letters "uvrtie" before him so that both sisters may see. Isabella seemed to consider them with casual indifference, while Emma's countenance became troubled.

"It is not fair, Mr. Knightley, for you know that Isabella is so much older than I," Emma complained.

"And has Isabella discovered the word before you?" Mr. Knightley defended.

"She has not, but she will, as she has so many others already."

"I confess, I will not. Mr. Knightley's game grows tiresome, so that I think I would rather play the pianoforte," Isabella excused herself, feeling a bit too old to play so long at such a game.

"So you see Emma, you now have no competition, and are only striving against yourself. I am sure you have seen the word before," he replied as he moved the letters closer to her. She sat for a moment before she spoke.

"Mr. Knightley, you must make me a promise," she declared without question.

"Must I, indeed?" he asked, taken aback by her sauciness.

"Yes, you must promise me, that if I can find out this word, you will come to see me every day next week, and you will not weary me with such useful games as this. We will only play outdoors, and there will be no talk of what I ought to do."

"Emma, you know that I cannot make that promise," he said very sorry to disappoint the child.

"You will not come to see me then? Are you to be away?" for she knew that sometimes he did travel far away and would not come to see her for weeks.

"No, I will be at Donwell."

"Then, why will you not promise?"

"I will not promise, little one, because it may rain next week. And your father will not permit you playing in the rain, nor I think would you like to play in the rain. In addition, I cannot promise that I will not tell you what you ought to do. As I am so much older than you, it is my duty to help you see what is the best way to act."

"You are not so very old, for who that was really very old would come and visit me so often? Surely someone who was very old would not find my company enjoyable."

"To be quite honest, Emma, I did come to see your father today." She smiled in defiance.

"You may have come to speak with papa, but you stayed to play with me."

"I stayed because it is raining."

"So you will not give me your promise?"

"I'm sorry. I cannot."

"Very well. It is probably best. For if you were obliged to break your promise, then I would forever have reason to doubt your _virtue_." He smiled at her ploy as she rearranged the letters to spell her last spoken word.

"That was a devious scheme, Emma, you should be ashamed of such extortion."

"Why should I be ashamed? You did not bind yourself, so it does not signify."

"But I might have."

"No. Not you, Mr. Knightley. Miss Taylor would have, though I would not ask it of her. I would not ask it of her because she would not foresee my plan. That would not be fair. I only asked it of you because I knew that you would not promise and would know what I was about."

"But I did not know what you were about. I only knew that I could not promise what you asked."

"Did you not?" she asked in surprise. "Surely, you are teasing me."

"I do not tease you."

"Then, let it be known, that today Mr. Knightley and Emma Woodhouse have become equals."

"Equals?" Mr. Knightley exclaimed in astonishment. "Equals, indeed! You may be capable of cunning, but you are far from my equal."

"Perhaps not too far."

"Quite far, I'm afraid. How can you think you are my equal when I can still hold you to the ceiling amidst all your protests?"

"That is physical inequality. Persons may be equal in more respects than the physical."

"Indeed, you are right," he ceded to her higher logic, knowing that he would have to use more mature logic if he were to win this argument. "I will do you the justice to say that we are much closer to equality today than we were yesterday. But I am sorry to say that there is still much for you to learn before you find yourself the equal of a man of four and twenty. I am after all three times your superior in years."

"But you shall not always be. Every minute I am closing the gap. I think you will soon find that I have surpassed you."

"Nonsensical girl. Do you think that I will cease to grow in understanding, while I wait for you to catch up with me?"

"No, I am sure you will not. But you are so distracted with prodding me along, that I think you must neglect yourself."

"No indeed. There are many hours of every day that you do not see me."

"Nevertheless, I have decided that it is quite unfair that I should receive all the benefit of our acquaintance. In fact, I have quite determined, that I will teach you the benefit of giving in to the desires of others."

"Really? You have only just now decided that I should learn to give you your own way."

"Oh no, but I was waiting for an opportunity to tell you before I should embark on it."

"I am afraid you will not meet with success."

"All that is necessary to compel you to yield is to cause our wills to align. This is not so difficult as you might think."

"Is it not? What do you know of the will of a grown man?"

"Perhaps nothing of a grown man, but I know that a person, any person, does what pleases him as far as he can. And though you are not always here at Hartfield, you are frequently enough for me to see that you enjoy being here with us. I can see that you enjoy my father's friendly welcome even though his worries can be tiresome. And I can see that you enjoy working on your project of improving me. Therefore, as long as you do not give me up for a lost cause, you will continue coming to Hartfield, and I will always have you about, which is what I would wish for. So you see, we are improving each other." Mr. Knightley was ashamed to think that he actually had to consider what the child had said, but she was correct. As long as she showed improvement he would continue to come and see her, and he was intensely gratified to understand that she applied herself for the reward of his coming. She was, indeed, a bewitching creature.

"Emma, I think we have played enough for today."

"No, indeed. Not half as much as we should," she said beginning her audible pout.

"You know very well that your whimpers will not work, therefore why do you persist with them when you speak to me?" he asked in a scolding tone.

"It is not a whimper, but disappointment. Sometimes I do not speak to influence but only to give voice to my heart."

"Aye, little one," he replied almost sorry for his harshness, "But I shall come again soon to be improved by you." he said as he stood to take his leave.

"But not everyday next week, as I had asked," she had resigned herself as she stood to walk with him to where her father was seated.

"Perhaps not, but when have you known me to neglect Hartfield when I could help it?" When he had taken leave of Mr. Woodhouse and Isabella, he turned to go with Emma following close by his side.

"So you will come at least one day next week?" she asked still trying to elicit some kind of guarantee.

"I cannot promise, but I think you may know by now what to expect of me. As you said, I am not so much a mystery." he said with a smile resting a gentle hand atop her head.

"Very well, Mr. Knightley, as you are determined to leave me vexed, I bid you good day." She stepped away from his petting and gave a cold curtsey as she turned to leave him. Mr. Knightley simply chuckled at the child and made his exit. To Emma's great delight, (for she had forgotten all of her childish vexation) Mr. Knightley came all but one day the next week, and that single day he had to forbid himself from going simply to deny her wish. Let it be known, that the missed day was not beyond Emma's notice.

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><p><strong>AN: <strong>Reviews appreciated, but I will never beg for them. Thanks for reading! :)


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: ((Hangs head in shame at the unholy length of her absence)) Thanks for hanging in there, those of you that have. If you're new to the story, welcome! It's been way too long since my last update so I hope there is a similar feel between the previous chapters and this one, but please let me know if something specific feels off to you. I hope you enjoy this little window into Emma and Knightley's past. As always, please feel free to review or PM if you'd rather with your comments. Enjoy some much deserved recreation while reading. -)**

**Thanks for reading!**

**Brigit**

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><p>"Oh Mr. Knightley! Thank heaven you are here at last!"<p>

Mr. Woodhouse was all abustle again, and George was sure that he would soon find out why. Probably some member of the staff had caused one of the windows to jam open creating a horrible draft. Or perhaps even one of the livestock had contracted a horrible disease that was sure to infect everyone in Highbury. Nevertheless, Mr. Woodhouse was a dear friend, and catering to his little eccentricities was a small price to pay for his loyalty. Knightley, with a little smile on his face, continued at a comfortable pace down the path while preparing himself for the inevitably over-dramatized crisis.

"It's Emma!" Mr. Woodhouse exclaimed. Knightley's smile instantly vanished and his stomach turned as he thought of what might have happened to the bewitching little girl.

"What's happened to Emma?" he asked with controlled urgency.

"Come. See for yourself." Mr. Woodhouse led Knightley past the gardens and out to the tree line.

"Is she all right?"

"She holds on by a thread—only a thread!"

"Mr. Knightley!" He heard a small voice from above and searched the skies. She must be in the trees. "Mr. Knightley, over here!"  
>"Emma? Are you all right?" Knightley called up to the green canopy as he began loosening his cravat.<p>

"Quite all right. Only my Dress has caught on this limb."

"Be still, Emma; I'll be there in a moment." Leaving his coat and vest in the care of Mr. Woodhouse he jumped to the lowest branch and wondered how little Emma had managed to reach it in the first place.

"I don't know who I shall call for if you should both get caught," Mr. Woodhouse fretted. Focusing on the challenge before him, Knightley chose not to console his friend below this time.

Reaching Emma and finding the back of her dress securely fastened onto a broken branch, he bid her be still while he freed her. They climbed down the tree which he noted she had scaled a bit too high even for his liking to say nothing of Mr. Woodhouse's feeling on the matter.

"Oh my dear Emma! You are never to climb these trees, nor any tree in the village ever again. What would have happened if Mr. Knightley had not come along to rescue us?"

"Well, surely Mr. Black the groundskeeper could have helped us, Father. Please, Father, I do so love climbing trees," she pleaded with him.

"Emma, perhaps it is best if we just go inside for now," Mr. Knightley suggested as he reclaimed his garments from Mr. Woodhouse.

"Yes, yes," Mr. Woodhouse assented, "that is the thing to be done. Let us all go inside where we can be safe." Emma was sullen beside her father as they all walked toward the safe, secure, healthy prison of a home before them.

"Mr. Knightley," she began with a feigned air of formality noticing that he wore only his shirtsleeves, "You're not quite properly dressed for an afternoon visit."

"Nor are you, Miss Woodhouse, for you have a rather severe tear in your frock."  
>"Oh yes, I'd forgotten. Quite a shame too, for I did so like this one. I wonder if Jane will be able to mend it."<p>

Now settled in near a warm fire—a bit too warm for everyone except Mr. Woodhouse—Emma sat in Mr. Knightley's charge. He was given the strictest instructions to see to her safety while Mr. Woodhouse attended to a servant's matter below stairs. He was certain the child was just as annoyed with the unnecessary nature of her confinement as he was with being asked to enforce it.

"I don't see why my torn frock should keep me from climbing trees."

"But Emma, I don't think your frock is the concern," Mr. Knightley explained. "I believe your father is more worried that you should fall from so high and injure yourself."

"Oh, I've climbed much higher than that and never fallen yet. Well, not much anyway."

"That may be, Emma, but don't you think you're getting a bit old to be climbing trees? You will be ten years of age soon. You will soon be a lady, and I'm very certain that ladies don't climb trees."

"I know. Ladies also don't have fun," Emma brooded.

"That's not true. Ladies have a different kind of fun," he soothed.

"Yes, yes, choosing frocks and making up hats and going to parties and dancing. It sounds perfectly dull except for the dancing. And I would be happy to replace the gown I tore today, but why cannot ladies climb trees also? Do you know any ladies who do?"

"No, I am afraid not."

"Well, you must not know any ladies who have fun."

"What about Isabella? Does she not find enjoyment in being a young lady? Emma, what is it about climbing trees that you enjoy so that you have made it the celestial paradigm for happiness?"

"Oh, it's lovely up there. You can see for a mile. All I have to do is climb up a few branches and I can see the world outside of my home without ever having to call for a coach. But I suppose now that I am just as likely to leave Highbury as I am now to climb a tree. And Isabella may enjoy sitting quietly, and stitching cushions, but she is not the same as I."

"Perhaps you will find something else that gives you the same joy. If you would like to learn about new places I will be pleased to bring you a book from the Donwell library. You can learn about all sorts of places."

"No. Thank you. Learning about a place is not the same as seeing it, and I find reading to be tiresome."

"And if you were to hear about new places?"

"Why? Have you been somewhere exotic?" she asked suspiciously excited.

"And if I have?"

"Well, of course you must tell me. My education would not be complete without it," she coaxed, knowing that he would not refuse such an appeal for the improvement of her mind.

And so he obliged her. The extent of the exoticness of his travels was questionable, but he had travelled outside Highbury which was more than could be said for poor Emma. He told Emma exciting stories about his adventures at school, and traveling in London. Then he told his little friend about a place that captivated her. She knew she would never be happy until she had seen it—Box Hill was famed to be one of the loveliest places in all of England.

"Will you take me to Box Hill, Mr. Knightley?"

"Emma, I am afraid that your father would not approve." He was loathe to cause any more resentment towards her father, but he would not lie to the girl. Nevertheless he saw her countenance fall. "Perhaps when you are a grown up young lady, I will gather up you and Isabella and Miss Taylor and we will ride to Box Hill for the day. I cannot promise, but perhaps we may when you are older." Her scheming lent its glitter to her eyes once again, and he could see that she had latched onto the idea and was cheered by it.

"Oh, I know that perhaps we might never go, but then perhaps we may," she summarized hopefully.


End file.
